The winter of 1969 was one of the worst I could remember in my eight years on this earth. It seemed like all it did was snow, snow, snow.

One night not to many days away from Christmas, we were having another snow storm. All of us kids were in the living room watching television. I believe we were watching Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer. Mum was in the kichen doing the dinner dishes. My aunt Bon was sitting at the kitchen table talking to my mother. My mother kept washing the dishes as her and Bon talked their grown-up girl talk. Every once in a while their talk would be interupted by their laughter. I always wondered what they talked about and what was being said that made them laugh so hard but, us kids were usually excluded from their conversations.

My mother and Bon were in another one of their laughing fits when someone knocked on the front door. My mother yelled for someone to go to the door and see who was knocking. I jumped up and ran to the door. I was excited to have company. We never had much company other than Bon and her family. I opened the door and there was old man Eaton who lived just up the road.

I had never seen old man Eaton up close before. I had seen him from a distance and I liked it that way. All of the kids who lived on the old dirt road he lived on had heard stories about how evil he was, and how he hated little kids. Besides, we all had seen whatever it was he kept in his shed watch us as we walked by his house.

Mr. Eaton lived the next house up from us but, his house was on the other side of the street. Our friends lived in the house next to Mr. Eaton, on the same side of the street. Us kids would walk up to our friends house to play. When we got close enough to Mr. Eatons house that we no longer felt safe we would all cross the street so we were on the oposite side of the road from his house.This was a no-no to my mother as this put cars coming towards you at your back so you couldn't see them.

The shed on Mr. Eatons property sat about two feet from the edge of the road. Us kids thought if we got to close whatever it was Mr. Eaton kept prisoner in the shed would reach through and grab us.

As we walked past Mr. Eatons we would keep our eyes on the shed. No one dared to look directly at the shed, instead we would look out of the corner of our eye at the shed. I always thought if you didn't look directly at the shed, whoever or whatever was in there would not know you knew something lived in there, and would therefor not get to upset with you for passing by.

The boards on the shed were seperated by gaps of one or two inches. As us kids walked by we would glance out of the corner of our eye, and watch as the junk in the shed seemed to move as we walked by. We all thought we were being watched, and whatever it was in the shed was moving so it could watch us through the openings. Sometimes we would wisper to each other about whatever it was watching us, and we would all get scared and start running. I remember there were times if I went to our neighbors house alone, I would hike through the woods to get to their house, and then hike back through the woods to get back home, just so I wouldn't have to walk past Mr. Eatons house alone.

Now, Here I was face to face with old Man Eaton.I was holding the front door opened and standing only inches from the one person us kids were most afraid of. I was afraid of him even though my mother and Bon were only a few feet away. I knew there was something wrong with him as he stood on the porch. He was much older than I had thought he would be and he didn't look so big up close. He was sort of hunched over.

Even though I was nervous I managed to say, "hello." Mr. Eaton started talking. Mum called out to me, "George,who is it?" I answered, "It's old man Eaton." My mother yelled to me, "Mr. Eaton!" I knew she was mad because I called him, "old man Eaton." We were raised to call our elders either Mr. or Mrs. never by their first name and under no circumstances something like old man.

Mum asked me what Mr. eaton wanted. I told her I couldn't understand him. Mum walked over to the front door and told me to, "get out of the way." I stepped back. Mum asked Mr. Eaton what he wanted. Mr. Eaton said, "I have been watching your boys and girls playing." I felt the creeps, old man Eaton was watching us. I knew it was him in the shed watching us as we walked by his house. Mr Eaton continued talking to Mum. "I am going to die tonight and I would like to give your children my dog and you my last loaf of bread." I really got excited, we were going to get old man Eatons dog.

I ran into the living room and told everyone we were getting a dog from Mr. Eaton. Everyone got up and went to the front door where my mother was talking to Mr. Eaton. Mum yelled at us all, "you kids get back in the living room and watch tv!" Everyone but me went back into the living room. I was really getting excited. I was going to get a dog.

Mum told Mr. Eaton we couldn't take his dog or his bread. I interupted Mum while she was talking to Mr. Eaton. "Please, please oh pretty please",I begged. Mum said, "No George we can't take his dog and bread." I was getting upset with Mum, Mr. Eaton was offering his dog to us kids and his last loaf of bread to Mum. I figured if she didn't want the bread that was fine but, I wanted the dog so I should be able to have the dog.

Mum yelled at me, "George we are not going to take the dog, that's final." I kept pleading with her but she just wouldn't listen to me. After a little while longer Mum had convinced Mr. Eaton we would not take either his dog or his last loaf of bread. I was really upset when Mr. Eaton turned and walked away.

I stood on the front porch and watched Mr. Eaton as he vanished into the dark snowy night. I started pouting. I was very upset with Mum for speaking for us kids when she told Mr. Eaton we could not and would not take his dog. I thought for sure if I put on a good show with my pouting Mum would change her mind but, being the stubborn mother she was she never gave in. When Mum said "no," she meant it.

After Mr. Eaton had left Mum told all of us kids he was not going to die. I asked her, "Then why was he going to give us his dog and bread?" Mum said, "Mr. Eaton is only drunk, he'll be better after he has had some sleep."

The next morning while us kids were out playing in the front yard, our neighbors came running down the street towards our house. They were hollering to us something about old man Eaton. When they got to where we were playing they told us, "Old man Eaton was found dead on his front walkway this morning." I was really upset. I said, "We could have had his dog if he died here instead." I was mad at Mum, Mr. Eaton told her he was going to die and she didn't believe him so he had to go home with the dog he wanted to give us. If only he had died while he was at our house then his dog would have been ours.

From what I was told, Mr. Eaton left our house after Mum told him we couldn't have his dog or bread. Mr. Eaton walked to his house, which is about a half mile from our house. Mr. Eaton slipped on the ice on his walkway and hit his head. He froze to death on the walkway with his dog and a loaf of bread at his side.

-- george nh (rcoopwalpole@aol.com), February 07, 2002

Answers

OH MY!!!!!

-- Debbie in MO (risingwind@socket.net), February 07, 2002.

George, my boy, I'm surprised you would ever move back to the country after reading the last 3 stories you posted!! It sounds like you had the life scared right out of you every day living in the back country. There were things under the out-house and things living in Old Man Eaton's shed...It's amazing you even survived. I think that kink of a childhood is what got Steven King's imagination going. And I like your stories just as well.

-- Dwight (summit1762@aol.com), February 07, 2002.

OOOoooooh now, George, WHERE have we heard THAT comparison before????

-- Sandie in Maine (peqbear@maine.rr.com), February 07, 2002.

That is one of the saddest stories I have ever read. I mean poor, lonely, wise, generous Old Man Eaton.

-- Susan in Northern Michigan (cobwoman@yahoo.com), February 07, 2002.

before you all start wondering if I am the same coward today, the answer is, "NO" people think I'm nuts because I go fishing (believe it or not throught the woods)and stay out in the woods until well past dark and all alone. people ask, "Aren't you afraid being out there all alone?" They can't believe it when I tell them there is nothing in the woods at night that isn't there during the day too. Now my brothers and sisters on the other hand, I think they may still be just a little bit afraid of things that go bump in the night.LOL

Now this Stephen King thing is funny, he must have really been a handful for his parents. I wonder what things he imagined when he saw shadows dancing on his walls at night? George

-- george nh (rcoopwalpole@aol.com), February 07, 2002.

George, once again I do not remember this story; I think i was probably 5 when this happend. This is a very sad story, I was surprised at the outcome. I'm telling mum.

-- Deneen fl (Gradydubose@aol.com), February 08, 2002.

Little sister, I guess the reason I wrote the book is because I remember. Maybe if I write about me crashing the car you'll remember, or how about us all in the mud pit, or how about me chasing Shelley through the house with the horse. Or the stories of what the animals always seemed to be doing when the school bus stopped to pick us up. Maybe you'll remember how I used to dig tunnels in the lawn for the rabbits and gerbils and how Mum was afraid to walk on the lawn because she kept falling in the holes.Or what you told the couple you would do if they didn't give us a pack of cigarettes. Or how about the green floating lady who haunted you at night in the old house. Or maybe me putting live lobsters in your bed while you were sleeping. Or how about how all you kids caused Mum to have a nervous breakdown (I wasn't to blame, I was an angle)Maybe you'll remember Rhinestone Cowboy or I can bring home the beacon. Eventually I will reach the age where you can remember. Oh, I could tell about the parties when Mum and Dad were not home, but I don't think I've even told Mum about the parties yet, I'm still afraid we'll get in trouble. Shhhhh it's still a secret. I remember how mad Mum got when we told her we fed Kent flies. We told her several years after the fact and she still hit the ceiling. Someday Deneen I am going to tell a story you will remember and more than likely the story will be about you.Hmmmmm, that got me thinking ;-) George

-- george nh (rcoopwalpole@aol.com), February 08, 2002.

Deneen, Mr. Eaton lived in the little old house next to the Preo's. A rich lady from Mass bought the place after Mr. Eaton died. We used to slide down the hill right behind the Mr. Eatons house and pick blackberries there during the summer also.

Mr. eaton tried to give us the dog and bread about a month before P.K. was born.I think you are right you were about five then. George

-- george nh (rcoopwalpole@aol.com), February 08, 2002.

George, quit it! You are making me die here! I am going to have to help you edit this book so I can read all these stories!!

Deneen, Hi, I'm Sandie, and I would have LOVED to have someone who remembered these things in my family, who could actually put pen to paper in a way that hits me like George does! I come to this site daily now, so I can read the next "George" story. I just hope noone like that "King" fellow comes snooping around and stealing any of George's Gems.

Hey, George! That's what you can call your column, George's Gems!

My kids want to know if you are available for adoption, they'd love a Grandpa with so many stories.....just love that marshmallow mouse!

-- Sandie in Maine (peqbear@maine.rr.com), February 08, 2002.

Hi Sandie, I always smile when I read your post. You are so kind. :-) George

-- george nh (rcoopwalpole@aol.com), February 08, 2002.

Now George, You've got me wondering about the story behind chasing Shelley through the house with the horse. When are we going to get to hear that one?

-- Terri in WV (mrs_swift_26547@yahoo.com), February 09, 2002.

Terri, I will tell the story about chasing Shelley through the house, while riding my horse in the near future. This story falls under the catagory "George, what in the world were you thinking?" George

-- george nh (rcoopwalpole@aol.com), February 09, 2002.

ok George, I am with everyone else, that look for a new story every day, but if we all read them, what will there be in the book? When there is not a new story I get dissapointed, but then when this is a new story, I laugh, and then wonder is there any left for the book.

-- Deneen fl (Gradydubose@aol.com), February 09, 2002.

Don't you worry, there are plenty of stories to tell.

-- george nh (rcoopwalpole@aol.com), February 10, 2002.